


Prime Numbers

by Salicos



Category: InCryptid - Seanan McGuire
Genre: Angst, Blood and Injury, F/M, spoilers - Imaginary Numbers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-15 16:53:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29439294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Salicos/pseuds/Salicos
Summary: Contains small spoilers for Imaginary Numbers! So that everything makes sense, it'd probably be best to read this after Imaginary Numbers.When Artie provokes Sarah's still-fragile mind, she explodes and chaos ensues.
Relationships: Sarah Zellaby/Arthur Harrington
Kudos: 2





	Prime Numbers

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time posting to ao3 so I'm kind of nervous!! I wrote this last year and I haven't really shown anyone yet. Constructive criticism is welcome just please be nice to me!!
> 
> A quick explanation for anyone who hasn't read InCryptid or just needs a refresher: Sarah is a cuckoo, she's like a telepathic cryptid. She can influence people's thoughts, and she can hear their thoughts as well, but she tries to be ethical about things. In the books she goes through some traumatic stuff that makes her lose control of her mind powers. Cuckoos are also naturally awesome at math.  
> Artie is a half-incubus, who stays in his basement all the time because he's worried about his pheromones attracting every male-attracted person he encounters. His blood has these pheromones in it too.  
> They love each other but neither of them wants to admit it. They're immune to each other’s powers as well because Sarah isn’t capable of reproducing with him bc she’s a different species, and also because Artie has some distant relative who had some cryptid blood that made her immune to cuckoo influence. They have a deep mental link regardless of this!  
> I’ve also used the word "whammy" - that’s the word they use in the books for "messing someone up with your mind controlling powers".

“I was trying to  _ save _ you, Artie!” 

The echo of my shout reverberated through my still-fragile mind, and I felt the tidal wave of mental push that I’d been holding back surge forward. I looked down and away, ashamed of myself for using that push to try to get my way, accidentally or not. 

It didn’t matter that Artie was normally immune to my influence. It didn’t matter how many times he tried to reassure me. I hadn’t seen him in five years. He was vulnerable. The rest of the family would be okay. They had anti-telepathy charms and my room was safeguarded against accidental bursts. They couldn’t hear anything I sent out when I was in here.

“...I was sick. I was projecting. I didn’t want you to get hurt. I didn’t want you to hate me.”

Pain, white hot searing pain surged through my entire body, until I was nearly numb. 

That’s when I heard the thump. 

I snatched my eyes away from the floor so fast it almost sent me reeling. I needed to be more careful with the sudden movements. I was still unsteady from-

Oh. 

Oh god. 

Artie was on the floor. Why was he on the floor? Why was he-

My knees went weak and I stumbled toward him, landing hard on the floor. I couldn’t hear him anymore.

His upper lip was covered in blood from his nose, his cheeks were covered in blood from his eyes, and his dark ginger hair was sticky and wet. Pushing it to the side, I saw what I didn’t want to see. 

His ears were bleeding too. Just like the cuckoo-

Just like the cuckoo we found who died when she tried to use too much power at once. The cuckoo who had served as a warning to me. Except instead of running clear and cool, his blood ran red. Deep, sticky red blood. It smelled sickly sweet, like port wine and blackberries, and filled every empty crack in my thoughts.

_ Artie? _ I reached out frantically with my mind. I touched his face, ran my hand through his wet hair, and strained my mind as hard as I could. 

_ 2, 3, 5, 7, 11... _

I shook my head hard, desperate to keep myself from slipping into the comforting arms of the prime numbers that had always been here for me when Artie couldn’t be. 

I took a deep breath, closed my eyes and pushed my mind past it’s limit, pain piercing through my panic and numbness. There was nothing. None of the quiet tangle of thoughts that come with unconsciousness. No barriers built up to keep me away. Nothing. 

The smell of Artie’s blood was overpowering. Even a small amount of it had always been enough to be distressing to me, partially because his own distress always came through our telepathic link, even when he tried to hide it. My anxiety had always been that he was hurt - his was fear of whammying all the girls in a 9-block radius who weren’t related to him.

Feeling too heavy to move, I shouted his name inside my mind, over and over, trying to reach him. I could feel my own blood dripping from my nose, but I didn’t care.  _ Please, _ I thought as loud as I could,  _ please just be unconscious. Please, Artie, if you can hear me, I’m sorry.  _

The pain in my head was getting worse. I kissed him, trying everything to deepen our connection. Maybe his thoughts were still there. His sweet, comforting mind was just buried deeply. It had to be.

It wasn’t.

I shifted my weight and laid down next to him, flopping heavily onto the floor. Disconnected from my body, I closed my eyes. I didn’t want to see his blood mixing with mine anymore. I didn’t want to think about it.

_...13, 17, 19, 23, 29… _

This time, I let myself drift off into the numbers. 

_...31, 37, 41, 43, 47… _

My head hurt so much. I just wanted to rest. Dimly, I realized my family wouldn’t hear my telepathic static cut off when I died.

_...53, 59, 61, 67, 71… _

_ I love you… _

_...73, 79, 83, 89, 97… _

They stretched endlessly, until my mind was nothing but prime numbers again. 

_...101, 103, 107, 109, 113... _

The numbers fell away and nothing but silence remained.


End file.
